Just One Round
by Millie M. Banshee
Summary: One Shot. Dean walked into a bar to drown a bit of aggravation only to meet man calling himself the Doctor. Both of them seemed to be getting along for a bit until the Doctor let something slip by accident. It doesn't take long for Dean to figure out something isn't quite right with the Doctor.


Just One Round

(I decided to write a oneshot story with the 10th Doctor and Dean. Why? I'm bored and I need to get back in the habit of writing again. So yeah… The take's place right the 4th season with Dr. Who and no time in particular with Supernatural most likely around 3rd or 4th season.)

* * *

Dean pushed open the door to a small local bar and grill on the outskirts of a small town somewhere in North Carolina. He and Sam had a bit of a disagreement over something stupid. Hell, he didn't know what it really was about anymore. More than likely they were with each other so much lately that they were grating on each other's nerves. Dean decided to get some air and left his little brother at the motel.

He looked around the establishment noticing it was rather full. All things considered it was a Saturday night and this looked like the only hangout in town. The door shut behind him as he walked across floor and around a few pool tables to make his way to the bar. He'd try doing some hustling in a little bit later after a couple good drinks.

He sat down on a well-worn wood stool looking around as he waited for one the bartender to get him. There were about 5 flat screen TV showing different sporting events scattered about the large room. He let out a sigh as one of the bartenders stopped in front of him with a menu.

"Good evenin'," he said, setting down a menu. "We got a beer special going on. Buy 2 get your 3rd free. It's good on both domestic and imported."

"Hm, really?" Dean hummed, looking lazily over the laminated menu. "Sounds good but I'm in the mood for something a bit stronger. Blood Mary."

"Sure. Anything you want anything to eat with that?" the man asked as Dean still scanned the menu.

"The chicken fajitas," the hunter said, handing back the menu.

"Be back in a bit," the man left to get his order and take care some of other patrons.

It would be a couple of minutes or so he decided to look around at some of the women in the room. Not a bad selection tonight. Seen better places to pick up a girl but beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd do a little flirting in a bit. The bartender returned shortly with the Bloody Mary. He sat it down on the counter as another man sat down to the right of Dean.

"Hello, what can I get you tonight?" the bartender asked, pulling out a menu from under the counter. "We have a deal on beer tonight."

"Not real interested in beer," the man muttered, looking over the menu. "Oh, wait I know… I always wanted to try this one. Salty Dog? Do you know that one?"

"I believe it's grapefruit juice, gin, and a bit of salt," the bartender said, rubbing his stubbly chin.

"Yes, that's it," the man said his British accent was rather evident. "Never had it before. Seen it before but, well… Hmm… Or, maybe… No, no… Yes. No. Oh, just get me a 7 and 7."

"You sure?" the bartender asked, knowing to ask with this kind of person.

"Well… Now that you mention it I'd really like a Mint Julep," the skinny British man said, staring intently at the menu. "Or, maybe a Long Island… No that's too much… Then again given what just…"

"I'll give you a couple of minutes," the bartender said, turning on his heel and walked off to tend to some of the other customers.

Dean sized the man up a bit. He was very skinny and his messy brown hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in a while. He wore a dark pinstripe suit with a long brown trench coat. He pulled out a pair of glasses as he continued to mutter still looking at the menu. He didn't need this right now. The bar was slap-full and he'd have to move to one of the dining tables if he wanted some quiet time.

"What?" the man asked, noticing he was being stared at.

"Nothing," Dean replied, turning to look forward and grabbed his drink.

The bartender returned with Dean's fajitas and set them down with a small serving of corn chips and guacamole. He then turned towards the rambling skinny man.

"You got an idea yet, sir?" the bartender asked, as the man looked over the top of his menu.

"I honestly haven't the faintest idea what I want," he said with a sheepish grin.

Dean snorted. How hard could it be to pick out a drink? The skinny man gave Dean a side glance before turning back to the man behind the counter.

"Why don't you just surprise me?" the skinny man said, setting down the menu. "And just bring me some wings with honey mustard."

"Okay, I'll bring you back a surprise," the bartender picked up the menu and put back under the counter. "Be back shortly."

The skinny man just looked up at one of the screens watching a football game. At least now he wasn't rumbling. Dean started to tuck into his food when he felt a set of large brown eyes staring at him. Dean slowly turned to meet the man's gaze.

"What?" Dean asked with the same tone the man had used with him earlier.

"Well, since we are kind of sitting here on the end of the bar I feel a little compelled to introduce do myself," he said, putting out his hand. "'Ello, I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor who?" Dean mused, sticking a chip in his mouth.

"Well, I'm generally just called the Doctor," he answered, pulling his unshaken hand back. "But I guess you can call me John Smith, if you must."

John Smith, huh? Grant it the man was British but that name seemed rather generic to Dean, but that does happen.

"I'm Dean Winchester," Dean answered, picking up his drink and took a sip.

"Well, nice to meet you, Dean Winchester," the Doctor smiled as the bartender walked back, setting down a glass with a dark reddish drink inside. "Ah, and what is this? Looks rather tasty, eh?"

"It's a Jack Rose," the bartender answered as the Doctor's smile wavered a bit but it tried to return.

The slight frown was not from disappointment in the drink it was from something else. Dean knew that much but he really didn't want to get dragged into that. He had current problems of his own thanks to his baby brother.

"Looks good," the Doctor said as the bartender walked off. "Yeah, real good… Thanks, mate."

The air between them fell silent for a couple of minutes, giving Dean some time to concentrate on eating his fajitas and chips. The bartender returned to drop off the wings and the honey mustard. At best the Doctor just picked at his food, nibbling on it here and there and he had yet touched his drink. He just seemed to stare at it sadly. Dean finished his last bite and wiped his mouth a bit. He could go for another refill, however. He flagged down the bartender.

"Another one," Dean said, as the bartender grabbed the empty glass and tray before he walked off. "If you're not going to drown your sorrows in liquor, why'd you come in?

"Huh, what? Oh, well, I just…" the Doctor muttered, running a finger around the rim of his glass. "I honestly don't know. More or less I guess I'm just running. Needed a break."

"I know that feeling all too well," Dean grumbled, picking some food out his teeth with his tongue. "Girl troubles?"

"Something like that, but not quite what you think," the Doctor said, playing with drink's garnish. "Well, maybe half of what you're thinking. It was a bit complicated. Still is… But they're happy."

"Oh, you're a player?" Dean mused with a dirty grin as the bartender sat down Dean's new drink.

"No, no, no! Nothing like that! One of them we were never together, we were just very good friends," he Doctor said, setting the garnish down back in the glass. "I just happened to ruin both of their lives. Well, technically 3 of them come to think of it. And, no, I'm not a player. It's just one of the many things I'm good at, it seems. Ruining people's lives."

"Yeah," Dean said, taking a good swallow of his drink. "Know that feeling too."

The Doctor took in a breath and let it out before slamming his head down on the bar. Honestly the man looked like he had been pulled left and right and up and down. It was clear the Doctor was a bundle of nerves. Perhaps, another topic was in order. The whole Dalek invasion topic was still going strong all though it had been 3 months since then.

"So, what about that alien invasion about 3 months back? Pretty, weird, huh? I mean there were like 21 planets up in the sky and everything," Dean said, noticing the sour look he was getting from the Doctor who's head still rested on the counter.

"It was 26 planets you were seeing, 27 if one included Earth that were hijacked, and that's a topic I'd like to not talk about, thank you very much," The Doctor grumbled.

"You know your hair is in your sauce?" Dean drawled, as the man sat up, looked at the small cup and put his hand in his hair.

"Well, that's just a bit nasty," the Doctor said, grabbing a napkin and tried to get it out. "Going to be sticky for a while."

"You did it," Dean moaned, picking up his glass. "So you're good at picking up chicks?"

"Oi, again it's not like that," the Doctor said, crumpling up the napkin. "I don't just pick up chicks as you put it. There's a lot more to it than that, I'll have you know."

"You must have something going on. I mean 3 girls at once?" Dean smirked.

"No, not all at once! Goodness no…" the Doctor grumbled as he rubbed the sides of his head. "One female at a time is plenty."

"C'mon, you serious?" Dean asked slyly, nudging him a bit.

"Yes, quite," the Doctor quickly replied. "They were at completely separate times."

"Did they ever meet each other?" Dean inquired.

"Yes, all 4 of them just recently," the Doctor moaned running a hand down his thin face.

"I thought you said 3?" Dean picked up the Doctor looked like a deer in headlight.

"That got awkward fast," the Doctor mumbled, turning away from Dean. "The 4th was an older companion of mine."

"Are you saying she doesn't count?" Dean questioned, taking a sip.

"You're getting quite the trill out of this, aren't you?" the Doctor said, looking Dean right in the eyes.

"What? Me? Nah," Dean said rather sarcastically.

"Yes, you are," Doctor said, taking of glasses and put them away. "You like dirty stories, don't you? The more dirt the better, I'm guessing. Yes, I can see it your eyes."

"Well, maybe just a little bit," Dean teased, setting his glass down. "Hey, look I've had my own fair share of women problems. Believe you me."

"Wonderful," the Doctor said, turning back to the game. "Hm, oh, yes, Duke wins."

"What? Oh, the game is it over?" Dean mused, turning to look at the game. "You're joking. The game's still going on. Besides they're way behind."

"Oh, trust me, they come round. 23 to 21 I believe," the Doctor said, finally picking up his glass. "Might as well give it a taste; no use wasting it completely.

He took a rather large gulp, held it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it. He made a bit of a face and he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He sat it down before picking at the wings again. The Doctor obviously didn't drink much.

"You don't really drink, do you?" Dean asked as the man shook his head.

"It a very rare occasion that any form of alcohol enters my mouth," the Doctor said, setting down the chicken wing. "I really never touch it."

"You just didn't want to be left out not having a drink?" Dean asked as the Doctor shrugged.

"I just figured I'd try it," he said, looking back up at the TV. "No harm in it."

"Hey, uh, Doc, I'll make a bet with you," Dean said as the Doctor turned to look at him.

"This bet being what?" the Doctor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing much just a game," Dean said, looking at his Bloody Mary. "A good old drinking game."

"If you, sir, are attempting to get me rather intoxicated," The doctor said with a hum, "you will be sorely disappointed."

"Oh, c'mon. Just once. Let loose a little," Dean said as the Doctor didn't look that amused. "I'll buy the drinks. Hell, I'll pay for your drink and wings should you win."

"A tempting offer but I've just enough to pay for this little bit on my own," the Doctor quickly replied.

"One round is all I ask," Dean pushed a little harder. "Just one round, no more."

The Doctor mused over it for a moment. One round wouldn't hurt and he wouldn't have to spend the last of his money in this place. He let out a sigh as he looked at the smug man before him. Might as well humor the man.

"Very well but I might be better at this than you think," The Doctor boasted.

"I don't think so," Dean said rather confidently. "That's just a poor attempt at bluffing."

"I'm just giving you fair warning," the Doctor said, grabbing his glass and quickly down the last of it. "I'm not quite the pushover you think I am."

"Okay, then," Dean grinned, doing the same with the last of his Bloody Mary. "Ready to put your money where your mouth is?"

"More or less," the Doctor mused as Dean flagged down the bartender.

"Yes? Need something?" the man asked, walking over to them.

"Mind setting up a game for us?" Dean asked.

"Well, I guess. What game?" the bartender asked.

"Where's the water," Dean said.

"That cost a bit," the bartender stated.

"Yeah, yeah, just set it up," Dean said, waving the man off.

"I'm afraid I don't know the game," the Doctor said, looking at Dean. "Mind explaining it?

"It's really simple. There will be several glasses on the counter some filled with different types of alcohol and others just plain water. The trick is to not make any indication that you just downed something like vodka. You have to say 'mmm, water.' If I don't believe you have to down another glass," Dean explained but the Doctor looked little unsure. "It's fine, trust me. It's just one round and one round can't do too much."

A moment later the bartender returned with a large tray and quickly started to form line of full shot glasses in front of them. It was a rather long line of about 16 glasses. Both men looked at the glasses as the bartender picked up the tray.

"Well, have at it," the bartender said as Dean went for a glass first.

"Bottoms up," Dean said, quickly downing the shot glass. "Mmm, water. See simple."

"Yes, it seems rather simple. Let's see…" the Doctor said, picking up a random glass and quickly down it "Mmm, wat-ter."

"Ah, you got something else, didn't you? Do it again," Dean said as the doctor reached for another glass.

"Cheers," he said, before he downed the shot. "Mmm, water."

"Okay, okay," Dean said, grabbing another glass and downed it." Mmm, water."

"Let's have another go," The Doctor grabbed another glass and quickly downed it. "Mmm, water."

"Not bad," Dean said, grabbing another glass and swallowed. "Mmm, water."

"You cringed a little," the Doctor said, calling him out.

"Did not," Dean quickly replied.

"Oh, yes, you did. I saw you, you cringed," the Doctor teased a little. "Go on, then. Pick another."

Dean did so and downed it again. This time he seemed a lot more convincing. The game continued for a little while longer before the shots ran out. Neither of which were really affected. So Dean decided to order one more round just for good measure even though his drinking partner tried to refuse. Another round was lined up in front of them and the game was played once more. Once again to Dean's surprise the Doctor didn't seem to be at all bothered by what was put in his gut.

"We seem to be at a stalemate, once more," the Doctor said, pushing one of the empty glasses with his finger. "I must say that was quite enjoyable but I'm not too use to all this extra fluid."

"For someone who doesn't drink you can hold your liquor pretty damn good," Dean said, looking the skinny man up and down.

"Now, Dean, I did give you warning that I'm better than you believed me to be," the doctor smiled, proudly. "Though I must say you hold your own quite well. I hope this isn't a habit of yours."

"Yeah, well, it kind of comes with the territory in my line of business," Dean said, rubbing his chin, feeling a bit of stubble growing in. "Let's just say there are some things that just can't be unseen."

"Yeah," the doctor said, quietly looking back up at the TV. "True enough words."

Dean glanced up at the TV as well. It was the winning touchdown. Duke did manage to pull ahead and it was 23 to 21. He slowly turned to look at the skinny British man beside him. It was one thing to guess a winning team but to get score perfectly was something else. Just on a gut hunch…

"Christo," he said just loud enough for the Doctor hear.

"Oh, where you pulling for State?" He asked, but nothing seemed to change on him.

"What?" Dean said, looking a little lost.

"I heard you say Christo. That's Christ in Latin," the Doctor said as looked a little shocked. "I thought maybe, you know, you were swearing."

"Uh, yeah, I was kinda rooting for the red team," Dean said with an awkward grin.

"You mean NC State?" the Doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that one," Dean nodded. "Good ol' NC State."

"Oi, is something wrong?" the Doctor asked, noticing Dean's body take on a more ridged appearance. "I'm pretty good at telling when something's wrong. I sort pride myself on it even."

"Yeah, how can you tell?" Dean said, facing the skinny man.

"I'm just clever like that. Always have been," the Doctor answered, casting his eyes down. "Also you're a horrible actor, truthfully. You're emotions are quite a bit on your sleeve."

"Thanks," Dean moaned his eyes narrowing. "I'll work on that."

Dean had loosened up from when they first met but now he was even tighter than before. Had he done something? Did he say something odd? He couldn't recall anything. He highly doubted it was the football game or the drinking game. He highly doubted another drink would fix this. For a human he was pretty resilient to liquor, which meant he drank quite a lot and quite often.

The Doctor turned to look at the big Miller neon clock off to his right. It was getting to be 10 in the evening. Still pretty early all things considered but he felt it was little late to fix this particular problem. He pulled out his only $20 and set it on the bar. Yeah sure it was a lot but, hey, he usually didn't have money anyway.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Dean," The Doctor said, standing up and adjusted his trench coat. "Thanks for the drinks and the company. Do take care."

He quickly turned on his heel and walked towards the door. Dean wondered if he should follow Dr. Smith or not. There was something off. The Doctor predicted the winning score and read Dean's emotions like a neon sign. Dean quickly pulled out his money and set it down on the counter. He quickly stood and headed out the door as well. He saw the Doctor walking through the parking lot but he didn't stop at any cars he was headed straight for the road.

Dean picked up his feet and used the parked cars for cover. The Doctor paused at the road before crossing. Dean quickly took off after him before he lost sight of him in the dark. All that was there were some woods and a field just beyond them. Yeah, this wasn't adding up. It would make more since if he walked along the road back into town but instead he was walking out into the dark fall woods.

Dean was good at what he did, which of course was hunting, and he was making a minimal amount of noise compared the Doctor as they moved along the forest floor. Every now and then the Doctor would pause and look around. He knew something or someone was following him. When Dean made it through the woods he noticed that the Doctor was gone. He had lost sight of him and was now standing in a recently harvested hay field. Large round bails of hay dotted the faintly moonlit field.

"I highly doubt you followed me to apologize for your prior rudeness to me," a familiar voice said from behind Dean. "Honestly, Dean, you have the demeanor of a predator right now. I don't like that. No, not one bit. You put a bit of a chill in my bones."

Dean turned around to see the Doctor leaning up against a large oak that made part of the borer for the field and the woods. The Doctor just stood there with his arms crossed and a scowl drawn on his face. He was unhappy but he didn't seem angry, just unsure of Dean's actions.

"Who are you really?" Dean asked but Doctor's scowl didn't waver.

"The Doctor," he replied drily.

"Stop kidding around," Dean snapped, pulling out a gun as the Doctor jumped a bit at that. "I'm being very serious here. Who and what are you?"

"Oi, watch it with that thing," the Doctor snapped, pointing at the gun.

"Answer the damn question," Dean bit out. "Who and what are you?"

"I'm telling you my name IS the Doctor," he snapped, pushing off the tree. "As for the other half of your question I might be more inclined to answer without a gun pointed between my eyes. Lower it and we'll talk like civilized people."

"Oh, no, not even once, pal," Dean said, shaking his head. "That's a rookie move. You think I'm stupid or something? The gun stays where it is."

"Then so does my answer," The doctor said sharply, walking away from the oak tree. "I can't stand people that use violence to solve all there problems. When talking can be oh so much easier."

"Oh, please," Dean groaned, following the Doctor. "Don't give me that pacifist BS."

"What did I do to set you off, eh? Tell me that much at least," the Doctor bit out.

"It one's thing to guess the winning team but then you got the score right on the money," Dean pointed as the doctor did a bit of face-palm. "Plus for someone that 'doesn't drink' you can sure put them away."

"That still doesn't explain why you're planning to kill me," the Doctor yelled at him, throwing his arms in the air for a moment in frustration. "Who does that? Honestly, who the hell does that?"

"A hunter," Dean stated boldly, keeping a bead on his target.

"What? Some wacked out bounty hunter? Seriously?" the Doctor spit out, shaking his head. "Something still isn't making a connection!"

"I'm not a bounty hunter! I'm a hunter as in the ones that go after demons, ghosts, and other creepy sons of bitches that want to do harm to humans and the world. I take out the supernatural creatures. Is it clicking now?" Dean snapped as the Doctor looked at him with a genuine awestruck look. "What? What is that look for?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Wow he was not expecting that all. A supernatural hunter, eh? Well, then… Odd. And, yet…

"Okay, well, here's your answer, Dean the Hunter. I'm not supernatural I'm in fact extraterrestrial! I'm from up there. Well, more south along toward the horizon," the Doctor pointed off out into the field.

Dean this time looked a little taken aback. So this man was an alien? Was he for real? Then again there was that Dalek thing and all those planets. That terrified him quite a bit. That was completely out his element. A lot of good hunters died trying to get rid of those creepy metal bastards. To see another alien that looked human really rattled him.

"Are there more of you? And why do you look like us?" Dean asked as the Doctor just decided to plop down the dew soaked ground.

"On some genetic level we are similar to humans in physical appearance only, however, you resemble us instead. My race was around a long time before humans took their first upright footsteps," He said with a hard breath. "As for there being more of us. The answer is no. I'm the last of my kind."

"What do you mean, you're the last?" Dean asked, glaring down at him.

"I don't really feel like going through my whole life story but when I say I'm the last of my kind I mean, I am the only one left in existence. God, you're thick," the Doctor snorted, crossing his arms.

"Hey, watch it ET," Dean retorted back quickly. "So, if you're the last… Why here? Why Earth?"

"For starters I don't even live here. I'm more of a nomad, a traveler, if you will," the Doctor stated. "I go where I want and where I'm needed. Ever wonder how Earth got back to her normal orbit around the sun and how all those nasty Daleks were defeated?"

"Well, yeah, I mean… Wait, wait, wait! Hold on. You're telling me you put us back where we belonged and destroyed those super-powered tin cans?" Dean asked, his gun lowering just a touch. "You're telling me that was you?"

"Well, me and my mates. I had a full crew that day and we managed to fly my TARDIS through space, literally towing planet Earth behind us, and putting her right back where she belonged," the Doctor smiled ear to ear. "Oh, what a great moment that was. Oh, it was brilliant! My hearts race just thinking about it."

"You're shitting me," Dean scoffed with an unbelieving smile. "You have to be. Right?"

Dean looked at the Doctor. He really looked at him. There was nothing in the Doctor's body language that read that that he was lying. So was he really telling the truth? Did this alien and his friends really tow Earth back to her original orbit?

"Oh, hell… You aren't lying," Dean said, lower his gun completely.

"Nope, that was me and all my companions," he said with smile. "That would include the 4 women I was mentioning earlier. Plus a few others. Brilliant all of them."

"They're aliens too?" Dean asked.

"No, on the contrary they are rather quite human," he said, looking back up the stars. "Your race really does fascinate me to no end. You have so much potential to do so much good and yet you can do a great deal of damage too."

"Okay. So, these companions of yours, do you abduct women or something?" Dean asked, his gun hand tensing again.

"No! I give them a taste of what my life is like. Some are terrified of it and yet others… Others are enamored by it. They get a choice to come with me or not. I never take a person by force they make that decision on their own," the Doctor said, rubbing the back of his neck. "And unlike them I don't get that choice."

"And what exactly is it that you do that gives you no choice?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, to put it bluntly I save people all over the universe. However, there are always your upsides and your downsides," The Doctor said with a long breath. "As not everyone can be saved, some don't understand, and some just don't want to be saved. It's a rather dismal existence."

"Huh… So you're like a hunter just on a grander scale?" Dean asked as the Doctor made a face.

"I'm not all gun-ho and willing to kill. I want to try and save lives not destroy them. This being a prime example. I told it would be easier to just talk it out rather than you shooting me," the Doctor explained, getting up to his feet again and bushed off the seat of his pants. "Bum's a bit wet. Shouldn't have sat down. Anyway, killing is never ever my first option. Hence, why I never carry a gun or any other weapon."

"Okay, but you did mention it was an option. Killing, I mean. You have blood on your hands too, Doc," Dean pointed out as the Doctor tucked his hands into his coat pockets. "Hence your nomadic lifestyle, I'm betting. Oh, trust me I know the type. I've been running since I was a child. Hunting is a family business, actually. Much like you, I don't feel like going into my life story, but what my brother and I do really doesn't leave us with a choice either. Once it's in your blood it's in deep. You can tell yourself enough is enough but it never is."

"I still prefer not to kill, but it all boils down to justification, sadly." the Doctor said, hanging his head down low. "It's for the greater good, it was just unavoidable, or perhaps it was someone else's fault. Justification… Best justification is to just run. Run and keep running never to turn back. Yet always back here. In the very back of your mind you know that perhaps it was only for your own petty ambitions, maybe it could have been avoided, or it was really was your fault."

"See? That's just what the booze is for. To drown all that out," Dean snorted. "Best medicine out there. It's worked for years."

"Yes, and it shows," the Doctor scoffed as Dean's face soured a touch. "Practically immune to it now, aren't you? You guzzle that stuff down in large quantities just to get that bit of a buzz. You're just killing yourself."

"Hey, what I do with my body is my own damn business," Dean snapped.

"Well, I suppose you are correct. You don't seem to be the type to listen to a doctor anyway," the Doctor huffed with a slight smile. "Yes, do what you want to do. Human life is fleeting after all."

"Oh, yeah? So just how old are you?" Dean replied, quickly.

"Well, I don't what to brag but, I'll have you know I'm in my early 900s," the doctor said proudly as Dean looked at him bug eyed. "I don't age like you. When at death door step Time Lords have the ability to regenerate our entire bodies."

" Really? You're 900? And Time Lords? That's what you're race is called? You can regenerate? What are you, lizard people?" Dean choked out as the Doctor shook his head. "So if you cut off a hand you'll grow it back?"

"Well, yes and no. Depends on when the limb is severed, but that's not really important, and no we are not lizard people. Geez…," the Doctor snorted, rolling his eyes. "Honestly? Lizard people? Please…"

"So you're a Time Lord? What planet are you from?" Dean questioned.

"You are just full of questions, aren't you, Dean?" The Doctor replied with a question.

"I'd like to know everything that I'm dealing with," Dean said sternly, adjusting his stance a bit. "I'm still trying to get around the fact that that I'm talking with a freaking alien."

"Well, you are. As for your question, I'm from a planet called Gallifrey. The grass was red, the trees were silver, and the sky was a burned orange," the Doctor answered quickly. "And before you ask, and I know you want to, the planet burned in something called the Last Great Time War. My people were fighting the Daleks and it was thought for a time both races perished but obviously that's not the case."

"Life always finds a way. That being said maybe other Time Lords survived?" Dean proposed the question but the Doctor shook his head. "No? Okay, answer me this, then. Why just you? Why are you the last of your people?"

"Bloodied hands," the Doctor said solemnly, holding his hands up and Dean looked a little confused.

"I'm not following?" Dean answered as the Doctor turned his gaze to the stars.

"Oh, look you can just make out Mars," the Doctor said, pointing up into the sky.

"Hey, space case back to earth," Dean snapped but the Doctor kept looking up. "Doc, hey, I'm talking to you."

"And over there is Orion. You can always tell by the three stars making up his belt," the Doctor said, again pointing in another direction. "Beautiful, aren't they?"

It was clear that was a topic that the Doctor did not want to go over. So the planet Gallifrey burned but why was it just him? Why was he spared? Bloodied hands? Just what did that mean? Dean tried to wrap his mind around it. If Sam was here he could mostly likely figure it out.

"So do you want to see it?" the Doctor asked as Dean came out of his stupor.

"See what?" Dean asked, looking a little lost.

"My ship. My TARDIS," the Doctor said, hooking a thumb out into field. "It' just on the other side of that roll of hay back there."

"It must be very small," Dean said as the doctor turned on is heel and started to walk off. "Hey, hold up."

Dean quickly caught up with the Doctor and walked around the large roll of hay. Dean stopped short, seeing a large old blue phone booth out in the middle of the field. This was the Doctor's ship? It looked very cramped. He noticed the writing just above the door. Police Public Call Box.

"What in the world? You're telling me this is a spaceship?" Dean said, looking it up and down as the Doctor pulled out the key. "A blue phone booth is freaking spaceship? You're shitting me."

"Oh, trust me it is. This is just a cloaking device called the Chameleon Circuit. It got stuck like this one day a long while back. I kind of got used to it now," the Doctor said, unlocking the door and pushed it open. "Come right on it. Have a look around. Just don't touch the control panel, thank you."

"How did this tiny phone booth pull… An… Entire… JESUS," Dean choked out, standing in the doorway, before stumbling back a bit. "Holly shit! What the…!"

"Well, she's much bigger on the inside," the Doctor said as Dean walked around the outside of the TARDIS, examining the outer blue hull.

"But… But… It's so… It's a phone booth. It's a freaking phone booth," Dean snapped as he stood in the doorway again and the Doctor walked in, taking off his coat and put it on one of the padded railings. "How the hell is this even possible?"

"It's a TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space," the Doctor said as Dean finally took his first few steps in the door. "Beautiful, isn't she?"

"This is like something straight out of Harry Potter. Like those tents they used," Dean said, finally walking all the way in.

"Oh, I love Harry Potter! J.K. is one of the best authors out there," the Doctor said, happily. "Also now that you mention it… Yeah, I guess the TARDIS is sort of designed like the tents. I guess that's a good way to describe it. Smaller on the outside, bigger on the inside."

Dean just took a moment to look all around the spaceship he was in. He took in the odd coral-like structures and all the lights. It was a little hard to conceive this was even possible. He was on spaceship. A real freaking spaceship! He finally walked up to the control panel and looked around it. He ran a hand down his face, taking in a deep breath.

"Unreal," Dean muttered, staring at the screen on the control panel. "I'm standing in a spaceship with an alien that reads Harry Potter of all things. Oh, man…"

"This coming from a man that hunts the unreal," the Doctor smirked, leaning against the railing with his hands in his pants' pockets. "Well, this is quite real I assure you."

"What a story this will make when I tell Sam. Hell, Cass even," Dean said, turning to look at the Doctor. "Spaceships designed like something out of Harry Potter."

"Well, the TARDIS isn't just a spaceship," the Doctor said, pushing off the bars and stood beside Dean at the controls. "I'm a Time Lord, which also make this—a time machine."

"A time machine? This is a time machine?" Dean questioned as the Doctor snapped his fingers and the doors to the TARDIS closed.

"Oh, you bet is! Want to try her out? You know just one round trip," the Doctor asked with a mischievous smile. "We can go 200 years back? Or 600 years forward? Or we could go to a completely different planet? Or we could go a 1000 years into the future on another planet? You're choice."

"I, uh… Well, that's an interesting offer," Dean said, looking at the Doctor, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I don't…"

"Or you can just go home. Like I said, I give people a choice," the Doctor replied. "The prospect to some is quite terrifying. I'm not going to lie."

Dean puzzled over this option for a moment. It was just one trip but then again... How long would he gone? Would he like traveling with the Doctor? He was quite the pacifist after all. Sometimes that rubbed him the wrong way. He would also be highly out of his element too. There would be aliens, not ghosts. But if he didn't go would he regret it? More than likely he would. He adjusted his jaw a couple of time before looking the Doctor in the eyes.

"Yeah, sure, why the hell not?" Dean shrugged. "Just make sure you get me back here by dawn."

"That I can do and so much more," the Doctor smiled. "So where do you want to go? Just don't make it a personal timeline. Trust me that would be very bad. Very. I can't even begin to explain how bad. Paradoxes, holes in the universe…."

"Okay, I get it. But before you do anything, Doc, there's just one thing," Dean said as the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I'll take you up on one of your adventures if—if—you travel with me and my brother on one of our hunts."

"Uh, well, that's… Well, that's little… Um…" the Doctor looked a little taken aback by this. "Woo, that's new. Yeah, definitely new. Go with you on a ghost hunt, eh?"

"Could even be a demon, or a vampire, maybe even shape shifter. Who the hell knows," Dean shrugged. "What do you say? Even trade? You show me your world and I'll show you mine."

The Doctor licked his lips a little hesitant to agree. It would be an even trade but could he handle something like an actual demon? An alien and a demon? How would that even work out? An odd mix to be sure. If Dean was willing to step out his usual comfort zone then there was no reason why the Doctor couldn't do the same. He adjusted his jaw and nodded his head.

"Alright, I'll join you on a hunt, Dean," the Doctor answered and Dean smiled. "So you want go where exactly?"

"Why don't you pick? I'm not sure about this yet," Dean said, stepping back, giving the Doctor some room to work all the controls.

"Well, we'll keep it simple for now. How about 1000 years into the future? Any particular place?" The Doctor asked, running around getting the TARDIS ready.

"Uh, Miami, Florida," Dean said with a shrugged as a dirty grin crossed his face. "Spring break, maybe?"

The Doctor paused for a moment before a mischievous grin split his face. He quickly got to work as he ran around the controls like a mad man. He paused at the last switch as he looked at Dean who looked more than eager to get this under way.

"Spring break it is then," the Doctor grinned, hitting the last switch. "Allons-y!"

* * *

(A/N wow that was longer than expected it to be. Even turned out differently too. Never wrote for either of these characters before. I don't think I'll continue it but hell I don't know. I have too many stories right now so this will more than likely remain a good long one shot. So yeah. Tell me how I did.)

Millie M. Banshee


End file.
